...trudging into the distance in the bleeding stinking mad shadow of Jesus...the Lord out of dust had created him, had made him blood and nerve and mind, had made him to bleed and weep and think, and set him in a world of loss and fire... --Flannery O'Connor

My old friend Lucifer came / Fought to keep me in chains / But I saw through the tricks / Of six-sixty-six --Johnny Cash

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Wendell Berry Has a River

This morning, after my morning prayers, I read a little Wendell Berry poetry (thanks to Brad for getting me hooked). Berry writes a lot of his poetry reflecting on the beautiful place he lives in and farms. He writes a lot about the river he frequents on his Sabbaths.

As I read another poem about that beautiful river I looked around my own backyard in the middle of a West Texas city. The beautiful, pastoral, and idyllic world of the poem and my own world seemed so far apart.

Or were they? I wrote the following poem to find out.

Wendell Berry Has a River by yours truly

Wendell Berry has a river.I have this backyard, almost square,enclosed with fence, an alleybehind with trash cans.The birds are not exotic,grackles mainly, Quiscalus quiscula,but I hear them now as I sitwatching my dog who is loungingin the sun. It will rainthis afternoon. I see the clouds far outand hear the noise of the citythe cars, the train nowthundering through downtown.And here's my dog againchasing a squirrel who chattersfrom up in a tree. A standoffneither knows how to finish.And there's a flower, yellow, really a weed,But it's the first spring colorreminding me I need to buya new lawnmower at WalMart.A bee floats lazily by on the breeze.